


The Avengers

by just_another_tinker



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Superfamily, disney!au, incredibles!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:19:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5608324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_tinker/pseuds/just_another_tinker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It is time for their secret identity to become their only identity. Time for them to join us, or go away.”</p><p>Under public pressure and the financial burden of an ever mounting series of lawsuits, the government initiated a superhero relocation program. The Supers were granted amnesty from responsibility for past actions in exchange for the promise to never again resume hero work.</p><p>Where are they now?</p><p>They are living among us. Average citizens, average heroes. Quietly and anonymously continuing to make the world a better place.</p><p> </p><p>Alternatively, The Incredibles!AU that no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Interviewer: “Do you have a secret identity?”_

_Captain America: “Every superhero has a secret identity. I don’t know a single one who doesn’t. Who wants the pressure of being super all the time?”_

_Iron Man: “Of course I have a secret identity. Can you see me in this at the supermarket? Come on; this is a gold titanium suit we’re talking about! Who’d want to go shopping as Iron Man, know what I mean?”_

_Falcon: “Superladies, they’re always trying to tell you their secret identity. Think it’ll strengthen the relationship or something. I said, ‘Girl, I don’t want to know about your mild-mannered alter ego or anything like that.’ I mean, you tell me you’re a kick ass mega-ultra-lightening-babe, that’s alright with me. I’m good with that.”_

_Captain America: “No matter how many times you save the world, it always manages to get back in jeopardy again. All you want is for the world to stay safe, you know?”_

_Interviewer: “Ever think about retirement?”_

_Captain America: “Sometimes, I feel like there is a part of me that would want the simple life. You know, be your Average Joe. Relax a little and raise a family. Live the real American Dream.”_

_Iron Man: “Settle down? Are you kidding? I’m at the top of my game! I’m right up there with the big dogs! No- scratch that. I am one of the big dogs, the biggest one, in fact. Leave saving the world to the other schmucks running around? I don’t think so.”_

 

* * *

 

Steve took a deep breath as he started the car, messing with his bowtie for what seemed like the millionth time. A slight breeze filtered in through his car windows, the fresh air calming the blonde. It was a perfect day, both clear and bright, no doubt symbolizing the future that lay before him.

Steve checked his watch before starting the engine, pulling out into the street. He had left early, but Sam’s pestering accompanied with his own jumpy anticipation had the man driving to his engagement with ample time to get there.

Steve flipped through the radio stations with disinterest; almost nothing could pull his buzzing mind from today.

“-interrupt for an important bulletin. A high-speed pursuit between the NYPD and armed gunmen is underway, traveling northbound on Maiden Lane.”

Steve’s eyes snapped to the radio, his hands already on autopilot as he cranked the volume. Fingers tapped quickly against his dashboard as the car’s tracking system sifted through a bright display of a Manhattan map, triangulating the high-speed chase. An alert blared as his car locked on to the pursued car, his GPS mapping the quickest route for him to intercept.

Steve bit his lip before looking down at his watch again. “Yeah, I’ve still got time.”

With that, he slammed down on the gas, the car lurching forward as he gained speed. Hitting the underside of the steering wheel, a hidden console appeared, Steve’s fingers masterfully dancing over the panel to lock the car into auto-drive. Another series of taps and Steve felt his seat fall back, his tux already being pulled away until only a familiar suit of red white and blue remained. Smiling down at his costume, Steve reached behind him and pulled up his cowl before grasping back at the steering wheel.

Steve felt the car go into turbo, and with a quick glance to the GPS, he could see him gaining on the criminals. He whipped through traffic quickly, the car dancing between the lanes gracefully as he neared the target. Steve could hear the sirens now, accompanied by the popping of gunfire. Hoping to cut them off at the next major junction, Steve made another quick turn, when-

“Captain America!”

His dashboard shrieked red as Steve could make out the faint outline of an elderly woman waving him down in the middle of the road. With instincts quicker than lightening, Steve stomped on the brake, the car jolting from the sudden decrease in speed. A car screeched to a halt a mere few feet in front of the citizen, the woman herself seemed unfazed. Conscience getting the better of him, Steve leapt out of the car, immediately heading to the woman.

“What is it ma’am?”

The woman’s lower lip trembled. “It’s my cat. He won’t come down.” She pointed a slender hand up a large oak tree on the right side of the road, Steve barely able to make few meows from the animal. Steve sighed but found himself walking towards the tree anyway. “Of course, ma’am, but I suggest you stand clear. There may be trouble,” Steve said in a firm tone.

The woman walked over to the sidewalk but chuckled softly. “Oh, no need to worry, Captain. He’s quite tame!”

Steve rolled his eyes as he wrapped strong hands around the base of the tree. _Tame my ass._ Steve had lost count of how many times an apparent rescue of a pet has gone south. Turns out the wholesome Captain America wasn’t good with animals. No matter how many times he tried, Steve always managed to come home with more scrapes from a house pet then a day long escapade with Doom. Unbelievable, really.

Steve sent a quick glare to the cat before picking the tree off the ground. He grunted softly as he adjusted his grip. A mere sapling was nothing Captain America couldn’t handle, but the last thing Steve needed today was to get covered in dirt from the upturned soil.

Not even attempting to try and get the cat himself, Steve turned the tree parallel to the ground, shaking it softly as the owner reached her hands out for the cat. Gun shots echoed through the square, as the criminal’s car swung into view, the cops not far behind. Steve snapped his attention back to the cat, shaking harder.

_Come on, come on, come on._

The woman was pleading with her cat, Steve’s car was blaring alerts, the cops and robbers shooting fiercely. “Let go,” Steve hissed at the cat, his strength sending leaves everywhere, the cat itself digging it’s claw’s into the bark to try and keep its hold.

Steve watched as the robber’s car pull the same turn he did, the blonde seeing his window of opportunity get smaller. With one more harsh thrust, Steve sent the cat flying out of the tree and right into its owner’s hands before flipping the tree in the road on the other side of him.

Not a second later, the criminal’s car smashed into the front, the police car able to stop safety alongside it. The officers apprehended the men swiftly, the men too dazed from the crash to put up much of a fight. Making sure everyone else was standing clear, Steve hoisted the tree up a final time before returning it to its original position.

“Thank you, Captain. You’ve done it again,” a smiling officer said as he shook Steve’s hand.

Steve sent the man his best press conference smile. “Just here to help,” he said with a small salute.

Steve jumped as yet again, his car’s radio shouted another alert. “All units, we have a bus robbery in the vicinity. I repeat, all units- ”

 _Bus robbery?_ Steve pulled back a glove to look at his watch. “Yea, I’ve still got time.”

After a quick goodbye to the officers, Steve raced back over to his car.

“All right! Ready for take-off!”

Steve jolted at the voice next to him. “What the- who are you supposed to be?”

Sitting next to him was a lanky teenager in what was no doubt a hand sown outfit. The stiches were sloppy as the shirt formed what Steve assumed was a mockup of his own stars and stripes. The kid shot him a toothy grin, his fiery hair more red than orange, pairing with his ice blue eyes. “It’s me, Patriot!” the boy shouted proudly. “The boy wonder and Captain America’s sidekick!”

Steve furrowed his brow as he tried to piece together the kid’s face. “Wait, no,” Steve snapped with recognition. “You’re that kid from the fan club! What’s your name? Uh, Smith? Oh, Schmidt! Jo Schmidt!”

The younger boy scowled at Steve. “My name is Patriot,” he hissed.

Steve rubbed at his forehead. “Look, I’ve been nice, I’ve stood for photos, signed every scrap of paper you pushed at me. But this?” Steve gestured to the costume.

“No, no, no!” the boy protested. “You don’t have to worry about training me! I know all of your moves, your shield, fighting style, catchphrases, you name it! I’m your biggest fan!”

Steve groaned, rubbing at his temples again. _I do not have time for this._ Dealing with crazed fans was hard enough as it is, but Steve couldn’t let this get in his way. Not today.

Opening the passenger side door, Steve shoved the kid out onto the sidewalk. “Go home Schmidt,” he said shortly before tearing away to find the bus robber. He could hear the kid shout back to him, but Steve pressed on. The police had created a perimeter after the bus robbery, so there were only a few square blocks for the crook to have gone.

Steve opted to park the car and continue on foot. Before leaving the car completely, Steve walked back to the trunk, opening it to reveal his shield. The star blazoned in the middle shown bright as it reflected in the sun, the weight a familiar comfort as Steve strapped it across his back. The police had created a perimeter after the bus robbery, so there were only a few square blocks for the crook to have gone. The sun itself was barely setting when Steve managed to stumble across the criminal on the roof of an office building.

The man didn’t see Steve approach, too caught up in taking apart a horrendous looking purse. “I don’t know,” commented Steve, smiling as the man gasped in fear. “I don’t think that purse is really your color.”

The masked man dropped the purse immediately, backing slowly away from Steve. He reached behind him and pulled out a gun from his waistband with a shaking hand. Steve sighed inwardly, raising his shield a little higher.

“Look- ” the crook started when a sharp blast from the back of the building had the man dropping his gun and flying into the westward wall. Steve lowered his shield immediately, the familiar sound of a repulsor putting him at ease as a shadow stepped into the light.

“Iron Man,” Steve sighed, cursing inwardly as he sounded as lightheaded as he always was when he ran into the fellow hero. The Iron Man armor glinted beautifully in the sun, the red and gold complementing each other, each curve and joint melding together to create the modern masterpiece, centered around the marvel that was the glowing blue arc reactor.

Iron Man cocked his head to the side as he always did, leaning casually on the side of the building. “Cap,” he chided, the word ending with a small pop. Steve could almost imagine the smirk from behind the shielded faceplate.

Steve just sheepishly smiled back, shifting awkwardly on his feet. Iron Man always looked like he had Steve under inspection, the stoic gaze of the faceplate leaving much to Steve’s imagination. He heard Iron Man huff a laugh, the small mechanized chuckle sending a shiver down his spine.

The robber groaned softly, grabbing both men’s attention. Iron Man walked over to the man, the weaponized suit easily hefting the man up by his shirt. “That’s alright,” Steve started. “I got him.”

Iron Man dropped the robber back to the ground in a heap, scoffing. “Oh, sure, you’ve got him,” he said as he crossed his arms defensively. “I just took him out for you.”

“Sure you did,” Steve started. “It’s a good thing his attention was on me.”

“A fact I exploited to do my job,” responded Iron Man.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “My job, you mean.”

“A simple thank you will suffice,” Iron Man answered, stepping into Steve’s space.

Steve quirked his lips playfully. “Thanks, but I don’t need any help.”

“What ever happened to first come, first serve?”

“Well, technically I was here first.”

“But I acted first.”

“Hey, look, the robot got me first,” the robber intervened, but Iron Man quickly silenced him with another repulsor blast without taking his gaze from Steve’s. “Well, we could share, you know.” By now, Steve was eyelevel with Iron Man, the blonde able to feel the comforting warmth given off by the powerful suit.

“I work alone,” Steve said, his smile telling otherwise.

“Well I think,” Iron Man started, before blasting in the air and around Steve quickly, the suit’s front pushing up against Steve’s back, “you need to be more adaptable.” Steve shuddered as he felt the helmet brush up against his ear, a gauntleted hand tracing down his hip.

Steve spun around in the loose grasp. “Are you doing anything later?”

Iron Man huffed again before patting Steve’s cheek gently. “I have a previous engagement.” With that, Iron Man shot off form the ground and taking flight, the suit dipping gracefully through the skyline before disappearing completely.

Steve whistled as the armored figure disappeared. “Wow,” he whispered.

Movement got his attention again, and Steve soon found himself cuffing the fleeing robber to a drainage pipe at the building side. “Don’t worry, just wait here. They usually pick up the trash within the hour,” Steve smirked.

Standing back up, Steve saw a helicopter fly overhead, weaving wildly through the buildings.

“Hey, Captain!”

Steve smiled at the familiar voice of his friend. “Falcon!”

Falcon’s wing suit trailed quickly after the rouge helicopter. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” Falcon shouted over his shoulder while keeping up with the chopper.

“I still got time,” Steve shouted back.

Steve had a move to grace after his friend when a woman’s shrill scream caught his attention. Drawn like a mouth to a flame, Steve raced to the edge of the building, looking down at the large crowd that formed below.

 _What the-_ Steve’s blood froze as he look up to see a figure at the edge of the adjacent building.

_A jumper._

She watched in horror as the man jumped from the building and towards the street below. Without thinking twice, Steve backed up, took a running start, and jumped across the abyss catching the falling man. The two crashed through the window of the building, Steve twisting their bodies to try and prevent the man further harm. “I think you broke something,” the man moaned.

Steve huffed as he got out from under him. “Well, hopefully with proper counseling, you’ll come to forgive me.”

Steve sat up slowly, looking around. He recognized the building; it was a well-known bank in New York City. Steve turned to go comfort the injured man when we stopped again.

_Something’s not right._

Steve tuned out the other man’s grumbling, his super hearing listening in. His ears quickly zoned  on a few faint sounds from behind the back wall. Curiosity getting the best of him, Steve traversed to the back wall, placing an ear against the cold cement wall.

The rustles increased, accompanied by a faint sound of a- _chain?_

Steve jumped away from the wall as quickly as he could, just narrowly getting out of the way before the wall was smashed open by and large wrecking ball.

_The Wrecking Crew._

Steve hopped up from the ground, looking at the criminals facing him with their weapons and cases full of stolen money.

“Captain America,” Piledriver sneered.

“And Patriot!”

The group of men turned towards the sound of the voice. There, Jo Schmidt was standing silhouetted in the bank’s broken window. Schmidt ran over to Steve, bouncing like an excited puppy. “Cap, Cap! Aren’t you curious on how I got up here?” Schmidt almost shouted as he pointed to what looked like rocket boots.

Steve stepped defensively in front of Schmidt. “Go home,” he hissed. “Now.”

Schmidt rolled his eyes dramatically. “Cap, you’re always saying be true to yourself. I’ve figured out who I really am, Cap. I’m a hero, just like you!”

“You’ve gone too far this time. This isn’t a game, kid!”

“This is because I don’t have powers, isn’t it?” Schmidt snapped. “That I wasn’t born special like you! Well not every superhero has power, you know. I can be a hero without them; I can make my own!”

“Fly home, kid,” hissed Steve. “I work alone,’ the blonde continued as he began his fight against The Wrecking Crew.

“Just give me one chance!” Schmidt pleaded as he ran back toward the window. “I’ll go get the police!”

Steve turned just in time to see Thunderball placed a small grenade of Schmidt’s cape. “Kid, wait!” Steve shouted, chasing after the teen.

“It’ll just take a second,” Schmidt responded already flying out of the window.

“Wait, there’s a bomb!” Steve reached out, grabbing onto Schmidt’s show, the two flying erratically in the air.

“Let go! You’re ruining my boots!” shouted Schmidt.

Steve ignored the please, focusing on grabbing the charge from the tip of Schmidt’s cape. Schmidt’s flight pattern grew more erratic, Steve being tossed in every direction. Finally getting a grasp on the bomb, Steve chucked it down immediately, letting go of Schmidt as well, watching as the boy flew away to safety.

Steve fell harshly, hard metal digging into his back. Before he could gauge his surroundings, the beeping of the bomb sped up before finally exploding, sending Steve flying further back. Head pounding, Steve stumbled back up when he heard a horn in the distance.

_Oh shit._

The horn came from a train, one which was heading straight for Steve.

On the tracks that had just blown up.

Steve leapt to the other side of the broken track and charged the oncoming train. Taking a deep breath, Steve braced himself as the speeding train crashed into him, the blonde’s feet digging painfully into the track below. Grunting in pain, Steve pushed harder against the unforgiving metal, his muscles straining. Slowly, the train’s speed decreased, Steve just able to stop the train cars from slipping down into the gap caused form the explosion.

It wasn’t long before the police arrived with the paramedics, both helping Steve get the civilians out of the train. Steve also managed to snag Jo Schmidt, the kid still hiding out in the shadows. Steve grabbed him by his cape and dragged him to the nearest officer. “Make sure he gets home to his mom,” Steve said, throwing one more glare over to the sullen teen.

The officer nodded before looking back to Steve. “Who was behind all this?” he said, gesturing to the mess in front of them.

“The Wrecking Crew,” Steve replied. “We might still be able to nab them if we set a perimeter.”

“Wait,” the officer cut him off. “They got away?”

“Well yea,” Steve scoffed. “The kid over there made sure of that,” he continued, shooting a finger over to the young Schmidt.

“Patriot!” the boy protested.

“You’re not affiliated with me!” shouted Steve, before he was cut off by his watch beeping. “Oh shit,” Steve whispered under his breath. “I’m late. Listen, I gotta be somewhere.”

“You’re leaving? What about The Wrecking Crew?”

Steve shot an apologetic look. “Look, any other day I’d chase them down myself, but I really gotta go. Don’t worry! I’ll catch them eventually!”

Steve took off into a sprint, retracing his steps until he found his way back to his car. Typing in his destination to his GPS, Steve put the car back in auto-drive as he changed back into his tux.

 _Fuck fuck fuck fuck,_ his brain played on a mantra as he fumbled with the last few buttons. It wasn’t the first instance that Steve had gotten caught up in hero work, but today was the one day where that couldn’t happen. And it did anyway.

_Please don’t be mad._

Steve’s car turned the last corner before be pulled up in front of the small church. He hoped out quickly, sprinting up the steeple steps. Busting through the main doors, Steve almost ran into Sam. “Hey, is the night still young?” Steve tried to joke.

Sam shot him an unimpressed look. “You’re very late.”

Steve ignored him. “How do I look? Good?”

“The cowl, the cowl!” Sam’s hands shot out and pulled the cowl away from Steve’s head, the blonde trying to get a handle on his now ruined hair. Shooting Sam a final thumbs up, Steve took a deep breath before pushing open the sanctuary’s doors, stopping when all heads turned to look at him.

There he was, standing like a bright star at the end of the aisle.

_Tony._

The smaller man stood tall, the suit perfectly tailored across his well-toned body. His dark brunette hair was styled perfectly, along with the flawless Van Dyke beard that adorned his tanned face. His eyes shown bright under the church’s candles, the warm chestnut orbs alight with amber flecks. He shot Steve a small, shy smile, causing Steve to curse at himself inwardly.

Tony had already had a life filled with broken relationships and betrayals. No matter how much Steve tried to shower the other man in love, there was always part of Tony that was still convinced that Steve would leave him. Steve knew how lowly Tony thought of himself. That at some point, someone in Tony’s life had convinced Tony that he wasn’t good enough. That he was a disappointment. As soon as Tony agreed to be his, Steve made it his personal goal to take the rest of their lives together to prove that Tony was anything but that. That he was always worth it.  

Steve raced up the aisle, his eyes only on Tony and shot the man his biggest smile. Steve was relieved when he saw Tony visibly relax, returning to Steve a blinding smile of his own. Steve reached out and grabbed Tony’s hand immediately, threading his fingers with the comforting calloused digits.

The priest shot Steve a glare, but dutifully started the ceremony. “Do you, Steve Rogers, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?”

“You’re late.” Steve almost couldn’t hear Tony as he whispered. “When you asked if I was doing anything later, I didn’t realize you’d actually forgotten. I thought it was playful banter.”

“It was playful banter,” retorted Steve.

“Cutting it kind of close, don’t you think?”

Steve leaned closer to Tony. “I think you need to be more adaptable.”

Tony snorted. “Steve, I love you, but if we’re gonna make this work, you gotta be more than Captain America. You know that, don’t you?”

Steve stared into Tony’s eyes. Yea, he could do that. Tony was worth it.

“-as you both shall live?” the priest cut in.

“I do,” whispered Steve.

“You may kiss your husband.”

The priest barely had time to finish before Steve found himself with a handful full of Tony, familiar lips molding against his. Steve sighed into the kiss, bringing his arms around to bracket Tony’s smaller frame. Steve could hear the cheers of their friends, the other heroes, but the pounding of his heart tuned them all out.

This was his future. A future with Tony. A bright and shining life with his best friend by his side in the field, and lover curled up next to him at home.

“As long as we both shall live,” Tony whispered against his lips. “No matter what happens.”

Steve brushed a hand over Tony’s cheek. “Come on, Shellhead. We’re superheroes. What could happen?”

This was the beginning.

Unfortunately for Steve, laughing as he licked his way into Tony’s mouth, it was the beginning of the end.

 

* * *

 

It started with Steve, of course.

No one saw it coming.

Steve would never forget the headlines.

_Captain America Sued_

Or even the interviews.

_“My client didn’t ask to be saved; he didn’t want to be saved! The injury he received from Captain America’s ‘heroics’ causes him nothing but pain!”_

_“You didn’t save my life, you ruined my death!”_

The man Steve had saved from his own suicide. His injuries were extensive, his lawyers the best of the best. That wasn’t even getting started on the other suit filed by the victims of the train accident. Steve didn’t stand a chance.

Neither did any of the others.

It wasn’t long before heroes all over were plastered all over the papers. And not for the usual reasons.

_Thor Held Responsible for London University Destruction_

_Hawkeye and Black Widow Subpoenaed for Budapest Disaster_

_Iron Man Attacked for Expo Demolition_

_Hulk to Pay Super Damages for Harlem_

 

_“It is time for their secret identity to become their only identity. Time for them to join us, or go away.”_

Under public pressure and the financial burden of an ever mounting series of lawsuits, the government initiated a superhero relocation program. The Supers were granted amnesty from responsibility for past actions in exchange for the promise to never again resume hero work.

Where are they now?

They are living among us. Average citizens, average heroes. Quietly and anonymously continuing to make the world a better place.


	2. Chapter 2

_15 years later_

“Denied? You’re denying my claim?”

Watery eyes widened as they peered over an out of date pair of wire-frame glasses. Her voice trembled alongside the rest of her frail body, making the already devastating picture absolutely unbearable.

“I don’t understand! I have full coverage!”

Steve rubbed at his temples, closing his eyes, wishing to be anywhere than where he currently was. He tried to stretch out his legs, but was painfully reminded about the constricting desk he was squished behind in an even more constricting cubicle. Phones rang and keyboards sang in the crowded office, making Steve curse his enhanced hearing.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hogenson,” Steve sighed. “But our liability is spelled out in paragraph seventeen. It states clearly that- ”

“But I can’t pay for this!” the elderly woman nearly wailed.

Steve’s heart constricted at the tone. Somewhere, his mother was rolling over in her grave at the thought of Steve basically robbing the older generation. A harsh blare from his phone on his desk pulled the blonde from his thoughts, the man reaching for the tech on autopilot, blank look adorning his face.

“Claims,” he answered in a monotone voice. “Steve Rogers.”

_“I’m calling to celebrate a momentous occasion.”_

Steve felt a weight being lifted from his chest as he relaxed into his chair, unable to hide a small smile that formed from hearing the teasing voice.

 _“We are now officially moved in,”_ Tony cheered. Steve could hear splashes in the background, no doubt Peter in the middle of getting a bath.

Steve’s smile slipped away, thinking about the place they were currently living in. No, it wasn’t home. He and Tony hadn’t had a real home in a long time. They’d tried to stay optimistic, saying that ‘ _This is it. This is where we’ll start over again.’_ Of course, accidents happen, and the pair had found themselves ‘starting over’ way too often then they had liked. Now, it just seemed like it was part of the drill, both of them waiting for the other ball to drop and they’ll have to pick everything back up and try again.

“That’s great, Tony,” Steve sighed. “And the last three years don’t count because?”

 _“Because I finally unpacked the last box.”_ Steve could hear Tony’s smile over the phone, no doubt smug at such an achievement. But that was Tony for you; the man thought everything he did was incredible. Of course, Steve always thought so as well. _“Now it’s official. Why do we have so much junk?”_

Steve rolled his eyes. “Because every time you go out, you come back with your arms full of abandoned scrap claiming that you need to save them from rusting in the streets.”

_“Don’t get snippy with me. You’re basically the hoarder version of Bob Ross.”_

Steve scoffed, ready to retaliate but a wounded noise had his attention shooting back to the old woman, whose day he was currently ruining. “Listen, Tony, I’ve got a client.”

 _“Say no more,”_ Tony sighed. _“Go save world one policy at a time. I gotta go pick up the kids from school. I’ll see you tonight!”_

“Bye,” Steve whispered, listening to Tony hand up the phone. “Excuse me,” he said, turning back to the shaking woman. “Where were we?”

“I’m on a fixed income,” she sobbed. “And if you can’t help me, I don’t know what I’ll do,” she broke off, sobbing into an already damp handkerchief.

 _Just great,_ Steve thought to himself. _I’m definitely going to hell for this one._

Steve reached forward trying to get her from drawing too much attention to them, but the movement had the woman pulling away, crying even harder. Steve pushed his office chair out a little so he could lean out of his cubicle. He checked both ways, slipping back inside once he knew the coast was clear. One more look at the crying grandma and Steve made up his mind. _Screw this._

“Alright, listen closely,” Steve started, reaching down to grab and pen and notepad, showing it into his client’s hands. “But I can’t. I’d like to tell you to take a copy of your policy down to Norma Wilcox on- ”

He stopped when the woman was staring at him with side eyes, obviously confused. Steve groaned, tapping the pad wildly, miming writing with his other hand. “Norma Wilcox,” he said again. “On the third floor, but I can’t. I also _do not_ advise you to fill out and file a WS2475 form with our legal department on the second floor. I wouldn’t expect someone to get back to you quickly to resolve the matter. I’d like to help, but there’s nothing I can do.”

Mrs. Hogenson scribbled madly on the paper in front of her, jotting every note down. Upon finishing, she uttered, “Why thank you, young man.” Steve shushed her before anyone could hear, standing up to shoo her out of the office.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Steve almost shouted, making sure his voice carried through the other cubicles. “Pretend to be upset,” he whispered down at Mrs. Hogenson, smiling when the woman caught on immediately, beginning to sob as she walked away from his desk. Steve collapsed back into his chair, glad to know that he’d manage to get some sleep tonight.

Of course, the feeling was short lived, as a small roar echoed through the office. “Rogers!”

Steve barely had time to react before a blustering man came storming into his office, rage seemingly fuming around him. “You authorized payment on the Walker policy!” his boss almost shouted.

“Someone broke into their house, Mr. Pierce,” Steve replied evenly, trying to calm the man down. “Their policy clearly covers- ”

“I don’t want to hear about it!” Pierce snapped, his hands raving through the air. “Don’t tell me about their coverage, Steve. Tell me how you’ll be keeping our company in the black! Tell me how that’s possible with you writing checks to every Harry Hardluck and Sally Sobstory that gives you a phone call!”

And with that, Pierce stomped out of his office as quickly as he came in. Steve slumped forward, banging his head against his desk. _How is this my life?_

 

* * *

 

Tony sighed, glaring at the door in front of him, the shining plaque with the word ‘Principal’ blazoned on the front just another reminder on how he was failing as a parent. Shaking his head, he straightened his tie before pushing the door open, taking in the other occupants of the room.

“I appreciate you coming down here, Mr. Stark,” Coulson said blandly.

“Agent,” Tony quipped in response, already looking at his son, who was very blatantly trying to become one with the chair he was sitting in, refusing to meet Tony’s eye.

Coulson frowned slightly. “How many times do I have to tell you, Mr. Stark? I am not a part of some secret spy agency; I’m just a principal.”

Tony narrowed his eyes as he plopped down into the seat next to his son, swinging his sunglasses around in his hand. “We’ll see.”

Coulson rolled his eyes, not bothering to give a response. Another quick look at his son and Tony finally gave in. “Alright, lay it on me. What’s Pietro done wrong today?”

“He’s a disruptive influence,” a third voice sounded, a nerdy looking man stepping forward. “He openly mocks me in front of the class,” he hissed, large glasses almost falling off his face as he jabs a finger at Pietro.

“So he says,” Pietro murmured quietly.

“Look, I know it’s you!” the teacher yelled, stepping towards Pietro.

Tony was out of his seat before the man had finished talking, stepping between him and his son. “Who the hell are you and why should I care?” he snapped.

“I’m his history teacher, Mr. Sitwell,” the man sneered back, crossing his arms. “Your son keeps putting thumb tacks on my stool!”

Tony bit his lip to keep from laughing. He obviously wasn’t doing a very good job based on the glare Coulson sent his way. “You saw him do this?” Tony asked.

“Well, no… not really,” Sitwell mumbled.

Tony gaped at the teacher. “Then how do you know it was him?”

“I hid a camera,” Sitwell hissed. “This time I got him!”

Tony’s heartrate skyrocketed, shooting a fierce look over to Pietro, the boy hunching his shoulders, breaking eye contact. This was not good. If anyone got any proof of what Pietro could do, it would be devastating. It wouldn’t be long before men in black suits would come and take his son away. _Over my dead body,_ Tony thought, looking back to Sitwell as the man played a tape from the camera.

Tony gripped his chair tightly as the screen played, ready to grab Pietro and get the hell out of dodge at any moment. The grainy video progresses, showing Sitwell write something on the board and then walk back over to his desk. Upon sitting down, Sitwell jumped back up screaming about the tack.

“See!” Sitwell cried in real time. “You see?!”

Sitwell rewound the tape, playing it again, the other three occupants of the room leaning forward as if trying to see more clearly. “Look! He moves! Right there!” Sitwell pointed to the screen, showing Pietro move his head slightly as Sitwell sits down. “Listen, I don’t know how he does it but there’s no tack before he moves, and after he moves, there’s a tack. Coincidence? I think not!”

Tony shot a look at Coulson, seeing the principal rubbing at his temple. “Uh, Jasper- ” he started.

“Don’t you ‘Jasper’ me,” Sitwell snapped, turning towards Coulson. “This little rat is guilty!”

Tony rose from his chair, eyeing Sitwell up and down. “Threaten my son again. _I dare you.”_

Coulson hopped up, standing between the two of them. “You and Pietro can go now, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Tony shot another death glare at Sitwell before snatching Pietro’s hand, tugging him out of the office, the teacher’s accusations following them out into the hallway. Tony said nothing as he led Pietro out of the school and over to their car. Once Pietro had buckled in, Tony leaned forward, bracing his head against the steering wheel.

“Pietro,” he murmured. “This is the third time this year you’ve been sent to the office. You need to find a better outlet, kid.”

“Maybe I could,” the boy replied sourly, “if you’d let me go out for sports.”

“Baby, you know why we can’t do that,” Tony replied, starting the car, his heart throbbing in his chest. Pietro was always more withdrawn, never quite fitting into status quo. Tony could relate, of course, what with his advanced brain and snarky attitude that had landed him in a few too many fist fights. Being a parent now, Tony wanted the exact opposite for his son. But he wasn’t normal; none of them were. Even if the other kids didn’t know about his ability, his silver hair and shocking blue eyes turned heads wherever he went.

“I promise I’ll slow up, Dad,” Pietro pleaded. “I’ll only be the best by a tiny bit!”

 _God, I can’t do this,_ Tony thought to himself. _I can’t even give my kid a normal childhood._

“Pietro, you’re an incredibly competitive boy and a bit of a show off. Which usually, any trait you get from me should be cherished, but it’s only going to end badly.

Pietro scoffed, looking out his window. “You always tell me to do my best. I guess you don’t really mean it. Why can’t I do the best that I can do?”

Tony wanted to slam his head against the steering wheel. He knew it was only a matter of time before he found himself turning into his father, hell bent on destroying his child’s dreams. “Right now, the world just wants us to fit in,” Tony tried to placate. “And to fit in, we just gotta be like everybody else.”

“But Pops said our powers are nothing to be ashamed of. Our powers made us special!”

“You are special, Pietro. But everyone else is special in their own way.”

“Which is another way of saying no one is,” Pietro sulked, turning his back on Tony.

The rest of the ride was silent, Pietro refusing any conversation Tony tried to start. Picking up Wanda was no different, the girl opting to slip into the back seat, hiding behind her long locks.

Tony sat in the car long minutes after the kids hopped out, retreating back into the house. Just a few simple moments of silence before Wanda and Pietro would no doubt start a fight, or Peter would start crying.

Tony closed his eyes, imagining he was cutting through the air, gliding by building after building as he flew without a care in the world.

 

* * *

 

Steve finally pulled into the driveway as the sun was just starting to dip behind the neighborhood’s houses. A pounding headache throbbed against his skull, his ears still ringing from the incessant car horns and screeching tires of rush hour.

He had barely placed one foot out of the car before Steve felt himself falling, having caught the edge of Pietro’s skateboard. Steve lurched, his arm scrambling out to stop his fall. Unfortunately, the only thing to catch him was the car, and before Steve could change his mind, he heard the metal creak as it bent under the grip of his hand.

Steve glared at the finger indents now on the roof of the car. _I’ll deal with this later._ He shut the driver side door only to watch it pop back out, the door not able to close correctly because of his new addition to the metal work. Steve kept trying to shut it, each time using more and more force until he finally growled, slamming the door shut.

Finally hearing the door click, Steve would have smiled if he hadn’t seen the spider web cracks form on the window. Steve watched in dismay as the cracks continue to grow until the glass shattered, sending bits of window everywhere. Steve saw red, his rage sending him to pick up the car, ready to throw it at the nearest building.

He froze in horror, however, as he saw the neighbor’s kid looking up at him with wide eyes. Not really knowing what to say, Steve placed the car down as gently as he could and dashing inside. With any luck no one would believe the kid’s story, if he ever told. _I can’t believe I was that stupid!_

Steve leaned his head against the inside of the door to their house. The last thing he needed was to tell Tony that they needed to move again because people were getting suspicious.

“Hey there,” Tony’s voice filtered into his thoughts. “You alright? You look like you’re hiding from the cops.”

Steve’s eyes snapped open, locking onto Tony’s slim frame, leaning against a door frame, small smile adorning his face.

“No, of course not!” Steve tried to joke. “I was just… well, there was a…”

“Smooth,” Tony replied.

Steve wiped a hand down his face, relaxing as he felt Tony’s comforting touch pull him into a hug.

“Bad day?”

Steve just hummed, breathing in the scent of Tony’s shampoo. It were moments like these, with Tony tucked under his neck, the pair just soaking each other in, that Steve could forget their life for a little while. Tony’s callused fingers wove through the hairs on the nape of his neck, the deft fingers making curls with the blonde strands.

Steve finally pulled back, his large hands coming up to cup Tony’s face. Dark circles seemed permanently etched on the once tanned face, worry lines starting to form way before their time. “You too?” Steve asked quietly.

Tony thumped his head against Steve’s chest. “You have no idea.”

Steve brushed a kiss against Tony’s forehead. “It’ll get easier.”

Tony snorted. “You know, when you started telling me that fifteen years ago, I believed you. Now? Not so much.”

Steve looked away, biting his lip. When they’d married, Steve had promised Tony a better life, not one where they’d have to hide who they were on a daily basis. Steve had promised him happiness and love, something that the smaller man had never had. He couldn’t consider himself much of a superhero if he couldn’t even take care of his husband. But Steve wasn’t a real superhero. Not anymore.

“Hey,” Tony whispered, pulling his face back so their eyes locked. “I know that face. Don’t go there.”

Steve pecked the inside of Tony’s palm. “I know, I-I just…” Steve broke off with a sigh.

Tony gazed at him with an unimpressed look. “Steven Rogers, listen to me. You were worth it. You _are_ worth it. Those crazy ass kids in there are worth it. I’m not going anywhere, you understand me?”

Steve leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together as a surge of emotions coursed through his body. “Yea,” Steve answered, his voice wobbly. “Yea, I understand.”

He could see Tony smirk, no doubt in triumph. “Good. Now then, wipe that frown off your face. Tonight’s a special night.”

Steve furrowed his brow, praying to God he hadn’t missed an anniversary or something. “Is it?”

“It’s leftover night. Get ready for the smorgasbord of the century.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “You’re a dork.”

Tony shot him a grin in return. “You love it.”

“I love you,” Steve murmured into Tony’s ear, biting it softly.

Tony swatted at his arm, darting away. “Don’t try anything,” Tony quipped, wagging a finger at Steve. “I’m not that easy. I expect a meal first.”

“Gotta love a man who has his priorities straight,” Steve smiled, wrapping an arm around Tony as they walked to the dining room.

Tony laughed, a bunch of bright charms dancing in the wind, his face scrunching up like a sly raccoon. Steve couldn’t help but answer the infectious smile, pulling the man closer. Maybe it wasn’t the future they’d planned, but at least Steve still had him. As long as he had Tony, as long as he had his family, he’d give up being a superhero any day.


	3. Chapter 3

It was quiet except for the sound of silverware hitting plates, sometimes a glass setting down on the table. Well, that, and the constant humming that Tony was making as he tried to feed Peter his dinner.  

“Dad, you’re doing it again,” Pietro sighed.

An elongated answer slipped out of Tony’s mouth. “Noooo, I’m not,” he drawled, not doubt doing exactly what Pietro had said, making obnoxious faces at Peter to get the boy to eat.

“You’re doing it, honey,” Steve concluded, not even looking up from the newspaper in his hands. Steve tensed, feeling the exact moment that Tony’s glare zeroed in on him.

“You have to read at the table? Since when are newspapers still even a thing?”

Steve snorted but didn’t look up from the article he was reading.

He heard Tony sigh. “Pietro, I’d like to think I didn’t raise an animal. Steve, help the carnivore cut his meat, will you?”

Finally tearing his eyes away from the paper, Steve stood up, walking over to his son, digging into the steak on his plate.

“Pietro,” Tony prodded. “Is there something you’d like to tell your father that happened at school today?”

Steve saw the gray haired boy tense up, almost vibrating with energy, ready to make a mad dash out of the kitchen.

“Uh,” Pietro fumbled. “Well, we dissected a frog?”

Tony scoffed to his left. “Your boy got sent to the principal’s office. Again.”

Steve just hummed, focusing on the meat in front of him. “That’s great,” he answered. God, he was so tired.

Another sigh. “No, Steve. That’s not good. That’s _bad._ ”

The change of tone finally had Steve looking up at his husband, his hand still working furiously on the meat. “Wait, what?”

“Pietro got sent off to Coulson again.”

Steve’s eyes pierced into his son. “Why?”

“ _Nothing,”_ Pietro hissed, glaring at Tony.

Tony shot him an unimpressed look. “He put a tack on his teacher’s chair. During class.”

“Nobody saw me,” Pietro pouted. “The camera couldn’t even catch me.”

Steve’s head snapped back towards his son. “They caught you on tape and you still got away with it? You must have been booking it! How fast do you think you were going? You think you could do it again in the lab?”

“Steve, while any other day, I would be drooling over the fact that you’d want to do a science experiment, but he’s our son. We are not encouraging this,” Tony snapped.

“I’m not encouraging this,” Steve answered, but he knew his excited tone gave him away. His arm pumped as he pictured Pietro rushing through the classroom.

“Steve!”

Tony’s voice caught his attention right at the plate broke underneath him, Steve’s strength cutting straight through the ceramic. Steve clenched his jaw, feeling the metal of the knife start to bend as well. “Here,” he said, dropping his own plate in front of Pietro before picking up the broken plate and grabbing the newspaper.

He could feel the heat of Tony’s eyes on his neck, but Steve didn’t look back. After everything that had happened today, that had happened _every day_ to them, all Steve wanted was a break. Just one day, that’s all he wanted. One day where everything was as he saw his life would be all those years ago.

He stomped into the kitchen, throwing the broken plate and ruined meal onto the island in front of him, his gaze returning to the newspaper.

“Scott Summers, longtime supporter of superhuman rights has disappeared,” he read. A picture of a smiling man, sunglasses glinting in the sun stared back at him. “Cyclops.”

Steve didn’t even know Summers was still in the US. The last he heard, most of the X-Men retreated back to Europe after everything started to go south with the public. Something wasn’t right.

 

* * *

 

Tony bit his lip as he watched Steve retreat into the kitchen. He knew that Steve had had a rough day. He shouldn’t have said anything about Pietro; he should have just waited. But those rough days were turning into weeks that would eventually turn into months, maybe even years.

Tony could see how Steve’s eyes were dimmer, his steps heavier as he tromped through the house. He deserved so much better than this. He deserved so much more. But no matter how many times Tony would say, Steve would never forgive himself for what he thought he started.

Tony knew Steve blamed himself for everything that had happened to the superheroes. Which, of course, was ridiculous, but if Steve was anything, he was stubborn.

Tony closed his eyes. He’d make things better for Steve. He’d find a way.

“Wanda,” he said, looking over at his daughter. “How was school today?”

Wanda just shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to report.”

“You’ve hardly touched your food. Do you want me to get you something else?”

“I know what she’s hungry for,” Pietro jeered. “The Vision.”

“Shut up,” she hissed at her brother.

“The Vision?”

“Some foreign exchange student from England. All the kids call him ‘the Vision’ for some reason. What a nerd.”

Tony saw Wanda’s grip tighten on her knife, red flashing across her eyes.

_Uh oh._

But Pietro was already laughing. Tony groaned at the inevitable. Once Pietro started, there was no stopping that boy. “Well, it’s true,” he grinned.

“I said shut up, you little insect!”

Tony rubbed at his forehead. “Hey, no shouting at the table. Steve!” he called, hoping his husband the constable would make an appearance.

“Kids, listen to your father!” was the only response he out from the kitchen.

Tony narrowed his eyes at the general direction at Steve. He opened his mouth to snap back when Pietro made another snide comment. “She’d eat if Vision told her too.”

“That’s it!” was all the response Tony heard before chaos erupted. Magic spilled from Wanda’s hands, raising Pietro’s plate before smashing the meal into the boy’s face. Pietro didn’t have time to react before Wanda was leaping across the table, trying to land a decent punch.

Pietro pushed Wanda off of him, getting up and speeding around the table, only stopping long enough to slap her in the back of the head. In the background, Peter was giggling manically, but Tony could barely hear him over his own shouts.

“No running in the house! Hey!”

Wanda shot out a force field, sending Pietro crashing to the ground.

“Come on, no fair!” he cried over Wanda’s laughs.

“You started it!”

Tony saw red, his arms snapping out to his sides, quickly feeling the familiar weight of his gauntlets surround them. He picked up a kid in each arm, locking the grip so they couldn’t wiggle out. Of course, it should have worked if Wanda still couldn’t throw her magic at a distance, red swirls almost dancing out of her fingertips. Which, in turn, got Pietro riled up, the boy moving at supersonic speeds.

Tony could feel the metal in his gloves start give as it rubbed up against Pietro’s movements and- _God, the kid was melting his gauntlet._

“Steve!” Tony cried again. “It’s time to engage!”

Tony watched as his husband finally slipped back into the dining room, his eyes going wide at the no doubt ridiculous scene that lay in front of him.

“Do something!” Tony snapped.

Always the man with the plan, Steve lurched forward to snatch Pietro from Tony’s grip as well as lifting the dining room table to block Wanda’s shots at the boy.

It was absolute pandemonium.  

The table groaned as it tried to stop Wanda’s magic, Pietro’s feet kicking wildly against the other side. Tony was mere seconds away from calling the rest of the suit as he felt Wanda try and wriggle out of his grasp. Steve was shouting, the kids fighting, and the baby crying as their house fell apart around them.

_Ding dong._

The whole family froze, heads whipping around to face the front door.

The reaction was immediate. As well it should have been. Steve had drilled protocols into their heads. _It’s to keep you safe,_ he’d said. Tony wholeheartedly agreed. The last thing they needed was some unwanted attention that would have people figuring out who they really were. And then it wouldn’t be long before the government came for them, ripping Tony away from the family he’d finally managed to get.

Steve placed the table down while Pietro zoomed around the room, picking up the fallen dishes. Tony snapped the gauntlets off as Wanda lifted the chairs back to their rightful position. Steve nodded to his older son, Tony noticing that the man had inched closer to the closet that contained his shield, just in case. Pietro walked over to the door quietly, peering outside as he opened it.

Tony saw Pietro’s shoulders slump in relief, the rest of the family replicating the action as Sam Wilson walked through the door.

“Sam,” Steve breathed, flopping down into his chair.

The other man grinned in response. “Hey there, Cap. Tony,” he nodded before greeting the kids the same way. Sam was dressed as he always was: a simple shirt and jacket combo complete with a pair of jeans. That, and of course, his custom made backpack that Tony had created to house his wings.

“Hey Sam!” Pietro called.

Tony didn’t have time to stop his son before he launched a piece of china high into the air.

Sam jumped into action immediately, his wings slipping out into their full span as he flew into the air, catching the plate easily and landing with a tucked roll. The kids squealed in delight but Tony shot him an unimpressed look.

Steve just laughed, grabbing his jacket, already pushing Sam back out the door. “Alright, we’ll be back!” his husband called over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s Wednesday.”

Tony deflated. “Oh, right. Bowling night.”

Tony could barely hear Sam’s farewell before Steve slammed the door behind them.

Tony sighed before looking at his untouched dinner. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, young man,” he said at Pietro. “Your father and I will still be having a talk about your trip to the principal’s office.”

Pietro crossed his arms, jutting out his lower lips. “Other kids get sent to the principal all the time.”

Tony shot him a blank look. “Other kids don’t have superpowers. Now, it’s perfectly normal for you to- ”

“Normal?” Wanda almost laughed. “What do you know about normal,” she sneered it Tony’s face. “What does anyone in this family know about normal?”

“Now, wait just a second- ”

“We _act_ normal, but I wanna _be_ normal, Dad! I don’t wanna be what I am!”

With that, Wanda got up, stomping away towards her room. Pietro, seeing an opening, quickly followed, leaving Tony alone with a now dozing Peter.

Tony looked at the broken dishes and the empty chairs, the table in complete disarray. He’d finally gotten the family he wished for and now look where they were. They all wanted to be anywhere but where they were.

Tony blinked the tears away from his eyes rapidly before grabbing Peter to lay him down in his crib. Ensuring that the doors were locked and everything accounted for, Tony took one last look at the empty dining room table before stomping down the stairs, locking himself in his lab.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam sighed, leaning back against the driver’s seat. “What are we doing here, Steve?”

Steve shot him an innocent smile. “What do you mean?”

Sam, however, was not impressed. “Don’t pull that shit with me.”

“Can’t a guy just catch up with his best friend in peace?” Steve joked.

“Well I sure as hell can’t if you keep blasting the police scanner,” Sam snapped back.

Steve frowned down at the radio that was resting on the dash of the car. Steve had gotten it months ago, begging Sam to let him keep it in his car for fear of Tony finding it. Every Wednesday, they’d pile into Sam’s car and wait, listening for the city’s calls of distress.

It wasn’t that he liked lying to Tony, and going outside the law never sat well with him. But he had this internal debate every single time to steps into the car every Wednesday. He didn’t need the recognition, he didn’t need the costume. He didn’t need anyone to tell him he was a superhero. All Steve knew was that he wasn’t going to sit back and let anyone tell him he couldn’t help people anymore.

And of course, there was always part of him that prayed that maybe one day someone would see them, see the _good_ that people like him used to do, and call for the supers to return. That one day that he could pull out the shield again. That one day he’d see a familiar suit gleam in the sky as it rocketed by.

But that was just a pipe dream.

The hero façade may be gone, but Steve was still here. And he still had work to do.

“Sam,” Steve sighed.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We’re protecting people, Sam!”

Sam thumped his head against the steering wheel. “No one asked us,” he mumbled.

“You need an invitation?”

“I’d like one, yes,” his friend answered dryly. “We keep sneaking out here to do this, and it just… it isn’t right, Steve.”

Steve hummed, but otherwise ignored his friend. He knew he was right, he _knew_ it. But that wouldn’t stop Steve.

“You remember Cyclops?”

Steve furrowed his brow. “Yea, I read something in the paper about him today. You seen him recently?”

“I don’t see anyone from the old days, Steve,” Sam sighed. “Excluding present company, of course, but we’re already pushing our luck.”

“Oh c’mon, Sam, I don’t need this.”

“It was fun the first time, I’ll admit it,” Sam answered honestly. “But if we keep doing this- ”

Steve shushed him, his ears picking up from a scrambling over the radio.

_“We have a report of a fire over on 12 th and Main- ”_

“A fire,” Steve whispered excitedly. “A fire, Sam! And we’re close!”

Sam groaned, but dutifully turned on the car, tired squealing as they gunned it down the road.

Steve was nearly vibrating with energy as Sam pulled over a block from the fire, whose flames were reaching over the rest of the buildings. From the lack of red and blue, Steve sighed in relief, knowing that they’d beat the police there.

Scrambling out of the car, the pair raced to the back as Sam popped the trunk, tossing Steve a ski mask before putting one on himself. Not waiting for Sam to try and talk him out of it again, Steve raced down the block, towards the burning building.

Flames spilled out of the windows and through the roof, dancing in the night sky, but Steve paid it no mind as he charged straight through the front door. Thick smoke clouded him and he heard Sam cough faintly behind him.

Spinning around, Steve shouted over the flames. “You take downstairs, I take the upstairs. Meet back here in ten minutes, do you understand?”

Sam just nodded, tearing off and disappearing behind a cloud of smoke. Part of him wanted to chase after him but Steve knew that Sam could take care of himself.

Charging up the stairs, Steve held his breath and kept low to the ground, calling out every once in a while. While most of the patrons he found were unconscious, Steve was relieved to find that the worst injury looked to be a broken leg from falling debris.

After one last glance over, Steve was off, back down the stairs, hauling four citizens over his shoulder.

“Is that everyone?” Sam was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, another two men slung over his shoulders.

“I think so,” Steve replied. “Let’s get out of here!”

“And how do you suggest that!” Sam cried.

Looking around, Steve saw how the flames were much more pronounced, the blonde unable to find the way that they’d even gotten in.

Steve looked back at his partner. “Can’t you just fly us out?”

Sam gaped at him. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Can you or not?”

“No, Steve! Because in case you haven’t noticed, the goddamn building’s on fire!”

“So you’ve got nothing?!”

“What’s your excuse,” Sam snapped, shoving him slightly. “You run outta muscle?”

“I can’t just smash through a wall; the building is gonna come down on top of us!”

“I wanted to go bowling!” Sam screamed back.

Steve opened his mouth so snap back when a groaning from the ceiling grabbed his attention. He barely moved out of the way before debris came crashing through to the first floor.

“We need to leave. _Now.”_

Steve nodded. “Stay on my six,” he replied, charging off into the least lit space. He could feel flames licking against his legs, singing his clothes, but Steve pushed forward, aiming for the east wall. With one good shove, Steve felt the wall give, bricks and mortar flying everywhere as they managed to not only break out of the building, but break into the next one.

A sharp gasp was pushed from his chest as he hit the ground hard, Steve hearing an echoing groan from Sam. Not even giving himself time to catch his breath, Steve was up again, checking on all of the rescued civilians. Thankfully, Steve had managed to take the brunt of the force, so apart from a few extra bruises, everyone seemed alright.

“I hate you,” Sam said to him, his voice rough from the smoke.

“Yea, yea,” Steve replied, coughing a few times as he struggled to stand up. While they had escaped the flames, Steve could feel the throbbing heat encase his left side, ugly bruising already appearing on his skin. _God, how am I gonna explain this one to Tony?_ Maybe by sheer luck, Tony would already be in bed by the time he’d get home and serum would take care of the rest, erasing any evidence before morning came.

“Fuck,” he heard Sam hiss.

Steve immediately snapped his head towards his comrade, eyes searching for any type of injury. “What’s wrong?”

But Sam wasn’t looking at him. Steve followed his eyes, finally locking on to the slight shimmer that started to glow from the nearby flames light.

“Shit,” Steve cursed into agreement.

A jewelry store. They’d crashed into a fucking jewelry store. Steve immediately yanked back the hand that was resting on a display case that he’d used to stand up, but that just turned to bite him in the ass as blaring alarms sounded, bright spot lights snapping on.

“This is all your fault,” Sam griped, already trying to find an exit.

“My fault?” Steve scoffed.

“Yes, your fault- ”

“That’s funny. I don’t remember starting a fire.”

“Every single times, Steve. Every single fucking time that I got out with- ”

“ _FREEZE!”_

Both men stopped in their tracks, turning slowly as they were met with the barrel of a gun shaking in their face.

Of course the cops had shown up, _of course._ They had already graced the scene to take care of the fire, why not stop a robbery as well?

 _Tony’s gonna kill me,_ Steve thought to himself.

The cop was obviously a rookie, his fresh face pale and drawn, eyes as wide as saucers. Steve couldn’t pull his eyes away from the shaking gun. The kid was like a scared rabbit. One wrong move and everything could go south.

Steve spared a glance at Sam. Although the other man was looking at the cop, Steve saw the smaller man roll his shoulders, drawing Steve’s attention to the pack he always carried on his back.

It was a small signal, but that was all Steve needed. He and Sam had paired up way too often in the old days to still need verbal clues.

Steve looked back at the cop, making sure his hands were still up as he slowly lowered himself to the ground.

“Don’t move!” the cop shouted nervously.

“I’m just going to kneel. You see? I’m cooperating,” Steve retorted, keeping his voice calm, trying to be nonthreatening.

“Oh, ri-right. You,” the policeman said, aiming his gun at Sam. “On your knees to!”

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Sam.

Upon seeing that Steve was already crouched low to the ground, Sam began to follow, bending his front half down.

A split second later, his wings snapped out of the pack, the span of the manmade feathers arching other both Steve and Sam’s head, and whacking right into the officer.

The poor kid didn’t stand a chance.

Steve watched as he collapsed to the ground, unconscious, before hearing the familiar sound of Sam sheathing his wings back in their home.

“Time to go,” Steve snapped, not wasting another second as he grabbed Sam’s shoulder, yanking him towards the back exit.

His friend seemed more than happy to comply, the pair tearing out the rear door, listening to the sounds of more police piling into the front. They hopped fences, sneaked through alleyways, and at one point, hid in a dumpster to ensure that they’d finally slipped the cops.

Steve sighed once he finally slipped back into the passenger’s side of Sam’s car.

Sam said nothing, just started the car, driving off towards Steve’s house.

When they finally pulled up to his house, Steve opened his mouth.

“Don’t,” Sam cut him off. “Go inside, kiss your husband and hug your kids.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Steve replied, smiling faintly.

Steve lumbered out slowly, closing the door behind him before leaning back down through the window. “See you next Wednesday?”

Sam just flipped him off and pulled away, turning left and disappearing into the night.

Walking up to the house, Steve opted to go through the rear. Steve slipped into the back door, closing it slowly, the lock clicking quietly behind him. When he turned, he was met only with the dark silence of the house. Creeping slowly on the tiles, Steve shucked off his jacket, walking towards the bedroom.

That was until he heard the sound of quiet breathing coming from the living room. Tucking into a defensive position, Steve reared, ready to attack when-

The recliner spun around, the light flipping on, and Steve was faced with a very pissed Tony Stark. The smaller man wasn’t even in his pajamas, instead lounging in old jeans and a ragged tank top; one of Steve’s favorites that he deemed the lab rat look. Except the determined curiosity that usually adorned Tony’s face when he wore that ensemble was replaced he exhausted eyes and bruised lips where they’ve been bitten. Looking to the right, Steve could see that – _awh, shit._ Tony’s been in the whiskey again.

“I thought you’d be home by 11,” Tony said with a blank face.

“I said I’d be home late,” Steve tried to placate.

Tony huffed out a hollow laugh. “Always the politician. I knew you’d be back later. It’s a miracle you came back at all.”

Steve sighed, walking towards his husband. “Well, I’m back. And there’s nothing that I’d like more,” he started, gently taking the drink out of Tony’s hand and pulling him out of the chair, “is to go to bed. So why don’t we- ”

But Tony didn’t have eyes for him anymore. He stared off onto Steve’s shoulder, a hand reaching forward to pull a small rock that had gotten lodged from his tumble.

Tony eyed it suspiciously. “Is this _rubble?”_

“It was just a little workout,” Steve replied, even as his brain was screaming at him to quit while he was ahead. He knew that tone. Steve heard it when he watched old press clippings of Tony. The whole ‘ _it doesn’t matter what you say, I already know that answer anyway’._ “Gotta keep Sam in shape,” Steve tried to joke.

“Damn it, Steve,” Tony hissed. “What the hell did you do? We can’t go and blow our cover again!”

“The building was coming down anyway, Tony, I had to do something!”

Tony’s face twisted.

_Uh oh. Wrong move._

“What?” his husband cried. “You knocked down a building?!”

“It was on fire!” Steve replied loudly. “It was structurally unsound- ”

“Oh please, like you know anything about structural stability,” Tony snapped. “You just wanted to go out and play hero again!”

“Tony,” Steve sighed. “I did a public service. You act like that’s a bad thing!”

“It _is_ a bad thing, Steve! You can’t keep going around, living in the past and your glory days. You don’t think I miss it too? But we’ve got a family to think about, Steve. Kids! We have to make sacrifices.”

“Are you saying that I should have sat back and did nothing?”

“That’s not the point, Steve!"

“Then what is the point, Tony!” Steve roared. “Or are you just gonna stand there and list off all the things I’m doing wrong?”

Tony scoffed. “I don’t know, how much time you got?” he sneered.

Steve laughed bitterly. “I should ask you the same thing. What glass are you on now?”

“How is this about me now?”

“I’m sorry, isn’t everything?”

Tony gaped, his walls crumbling slightly before the mask was back on, ready to tear Steve a new one when a fluttering of a magazine had both men snap their attention to the coffee table.

Steve closed his eyes, cursing in his head as he heard Tony sigh.

“Come on out, Pietro,” Tony replied wearily. “You too, Wanda.”

Steve watched as his two eldest slipped out from where they were hiding, behind the ratty sofa. “It’s alright kids, your father and I were just having a discussion.”

Pietro snorted. “You call that a discussion?”

Steve sighed, looking at Tony for help. Once he was met with another glare, Steve groaned. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re gonna start lying to the kids, now? Fine. Not like I can stop you. You do what you what anyway.”

“Tony,” Steve started, but Tony just shook his head.

“Go to bed, kids. You’ve still got school tomorrow.”

Steve watched as the children agreed, but warily looked back at the two of them as they passed.

“You should go to bed too. You look exhausted.” 

And then Tony was walking past him, not to the bedroom as Steve had hoped, but down the hallway to his lab, stopping only to grab the bottle of whiskey on the way out. Steve just stood and watched him leave, unable to turn his eyes away from the defeated slump of the brunette’s shoulders.

“Shit,” Steve whispered, only met with the silence of the house, once again surrounding him.


End file.
